


the 5 things about peter parker that make mj fall in love with him

by caramelcaramelcaramel



Series: spideychelle week 2020 babey [4]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - College/University, Apartment, Couch Sex, Daily Bugle, Declarations Of Love, Diners, Drinking to Cope, Drunk MJ, Drunk Peter, Drunkenness, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Roommates, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, University, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, and they were ROOMMATES, because in this household we don't support the russos clownery, except that one is better, if you know what i mean, inspired by a fic called the 5 things peter loses in apartment 335b, oh my god they were roommates, potential spicy content, steve died instead of tony in endgame, thank you for bearing with my lonely ass, that one's a really good read if you're into this format, this is really just me projecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:08:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22443859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcaramelcaramel/pseuds/caramelcaramelcaramel
Summary: during their last year of university, mj and peter find themselves living together, just the two of them. mj starts to observe some quirks and traits that force her to confront the feelings brewing under the surface.follow me on twitter for updates on new chapters or on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!
Relationships: Betty Brant & Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: spideychelle week 2020 babey [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1780090
Comments: 9
Kudos: 161
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. his dorky smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey! idk where all these new hits are coming from but while you're here follow me [on twitter for updates on new chapters](https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3) or [on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spideychelletings)

“Don’t get up to too much fun without us,” Ned joked, tears pooled in his eyes.

“You better keep up that weekly FaceTime promise,” Betty told me.

I dragged my finger over my chest in an ‘x’ formation. “Cross my heart.”

“Are you sure you have everything?” Peter worried, looking over the suitcases.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Ned assured him. “Stop worrying about us. We’ll be fine.”

There was a long silence.

“You gotta get on the road,” I said. “Don’t want you driving in the dark.”

Betty hugged me very abruptly. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

I ducked my face into her shoulder. “I’m gonna miss you, too.”

We pulled apart, laughing to cover up the tears gathering in our eyes, and then I hugged Ned as he pulled away from Peter.

“Take care of my best friend,” he told me softly.

“As long as you take care of mine.”

He stepped back, and Peter and I helped him load stuff into the trunk of their car.

“Text us when you get to Albany, okay?” I said. Betty nodded.

Peter and I stepped back as Ned and Betty got into the car and started it up, waving goodbye. I wiped under my eyes as a couple tears started to fall.

“We should, ahem, go in and finish packing up.”

“It’s gonna be weirdly quiet, just the two of us,” Peter said.

“Hopefully the smaller apartment helps.”

We turned and went back in as their car disappeared around a corner.

The apartment seemed cold and empty without Ned and Betty there. Their room was completely empty, now, and it felt so strange.

Peter and I packed up the rest of our kitchen and living room, and sealed all of the boxes shut. As we were clearing things out, I found an unopened bottle of wine. Luckily, the cap screwed off, so I didn’t need to cut open a box to grab the corkscrew.

I sealed the last box, and then sat on the counter. “Come on, let’s celebrate.”

“Don’t you think moving hungover is a bad idea?”

“It’s half a bottle each. I think we’ll be fine.”

Peter got up on the counter next to me, and we opened up the bottle and started to pass it back and forth.

“I’m so mad that they graduated early,” Peter grumbled.

“It’s not that they graduated early, it’s that we’re behind because we couldn’t settle on a major.”

“Let me blame them,” he joked, taking a gulp of wine and then passing the bottle back to me.

I took a gulp and looked around our now very barren apartment. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t wanna stay here because rent is insane, but…”

“I’m gonna miss this place, too.”

I took another sip of wine and then put the bottle down on the counter, jumping down.

“What are you doing?”

“Come on, let’s take a picture. Last night in our first apartment. It’s an occasion.”

Peter smiled at me, dorky and lopsided. Maybe it was the wine, but my stomach did a little flip. He jumped down off the counter and came over to where I was standing.

There was a window in our living room lending a lot of that golden hour lighting. I pulled out my phone and tried to get a good selfie of us, but both of us were a little awkward and out of sync, and none of the photos looked good.

“Wait, I have an idea,” Peter said. “Get on my back.”

“What?”

Peter crouched, and so I climbed on piggyback style, wrapping one arm around his neck and holding the other arm out in front of us, trying to get a photo. Peter did a little hop, shifting me up, and I almost dropped my phone. We both laughed as I snapped a blurry photo.

I slid off his back. “This photo is actually pretty good.”

“What can I say, I know how to help a photographer out.”

I laughed, shoving him lightly, and he gave me that dorky smile again. My heartrate sped up just a little.

“Send me that photo,” he said with a grin, going back to our spot on the counter and taking a swig of wine.

I texted him the photo, and then hopped back up on the counter with him, crossing my legs and facing him.

“We’re gonna have to re-decide on chores,” he mused.

I groaned. “There’s gonna be so many more.”

“I can take more chores,” he offered.

“No, that’s not fair-”

“Come on, you work and you’re a full-time student.”

“You’re Spider-Man,” I argued.

He shrugged. “You always help me when I come home injured. How about we do a sixty-forty split of chores? That way I don’t feel guilty about waking you up at 2 in the morning to patch me up.”

I sighed. “How about fifty-fifty but you do the chores I don’t like?”

“Like what?”

“Dishes. Dusting. Cleaning the bathroom.”

“Deal.”

I took the bottle from him and gulped some down. “How much packing do you have left?”

“Just my bedding and toiletries. What about you?”

“Bedding, toiletries, and clothes.”

“How early are we gonna have to get up?” Peter asked, taking the bottle back.

I groaned, again. “Probably eight thirty.”

Peter scrunched up his face. “Gross.”

“You get up earlier for school.”

“I don’t drink the night before classes.” He took a sip, and then handed the bottle back. “Last little bit.”

“Thanks.” I finished off the bottle. “Last drinks in the apartment.”

Peter flashed that stupid smile again. “We could start off the morning with mimosas.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s smart.”

Peter’s phone rang in his pocket, and he answered, putting it on speaker.

“Hey, Ned.”

“Hey! We just arrived.”

“Congrats on not dying,” I said, scooting closer to Peter so Ned could hear me.

“How’s the new place?” Peter asked.

“Empty. But I’m excited to start unpacking. Thank you, MJ, for the idea to pack an ‘unpack first’ box.”

“You’re welcome. We did the same thing.”

“We did?” Peter asked. I looked at him, and saw the beginning of a drunken blush on the top of his nose and cheeks as the alcohol hit him.

“Yes, you dork. Pay attention.”

“Alright, well, I just wanted to let you guys know that we got here safe. I’m gonna go to sleep, because I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, we should probably head to sleep, too,” Peter said.

“Have a good night! Call me tomorrow after the move.”

“Goodnight!” I said, feeling my voice change as the alcohol began to affect me a bit more.

“Goodnight, guys. Love you.”

“Love you too, buddy,” Peter responded. “Talk to you tomorrow.”

He hung up. I sat up straighter, stretching my arms over my head, cracking my back. “We really should head to bed.” I started to lose my balance, and before I could fall off the counter, Peter grabbed me and I fell sideways into his lap. I giggled. “Sorry. Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

I hummed a little as my eyes drifted shut, reluctant to get up. Why was Peter so comfy?

“MJ, remember how you just said we should get ready for bed?”

“Can I just sleep here?” I whined.

Peter chuckled, hand landing in my hair and pulling strands away from my face. “Do you want me to carry you to bed?”

“No, I’m good right here,” I insisted.

He laughed again. And there those butterflied were again.

I turned over, looking up at him. He smiled at me.

“Hey, you ready to get up, Tipsy McGee?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re such a dork.”

“You’re such a lightweight.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Parker. Some of us don’t have weird superpowered metabolisms.”

He smiled again, amused. Were the butterflies in my stomach a sign that I was developing feelings for him? Because that couldn’t be good for me. Or for our new living situation.

Oh well. That was a problem for Sober MJ.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

He managed to maneuver me into a position where he could lift me bridal style, and then dropped down from the counter and carried me into my room.

“I’m not that drunk, Peter, I can get myself to bed.”

“I know, you’d just rather not. That’s the problem.”

I giggled, again. “Sue me.”

He set me down on my bed. “Maybe in the morning. You need me to wake you up?”

I shook my head. “I have an alarm set.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Em.”

“G’night.”

He left the room, giving me one last smile before closing my door behind him.

\---

The next morning was a bit crazy. I packed up my clothes, my bedding, and my toiletries, and then we got all of our belongings downstairs for when the movers came. It took about a dozen elevator trips and I broke a sweat carrying one or two boxes, but Peter could carry three times his body wait and look effortless the whole time.

Stupid boy and his stupid radioactive spider bite.

We finally got everything down to the lobby, and sat on our cardboard box thrones while we waited for our movers to arrive.

“Oh, our keys. Peter.”

He reached into his pocket, and took out his keys, taking our old key off his keyring. He handed it to me, a little hesitantly. “Sorry, it just…it just hit me that we’re leaving our apartment behind.”

I offered him a kind smile, rather than my usual dose of sarcasm. “It treated us pretty well.”

I took our keys over to the mail room, and slipped them into the key-drop.

Not that I would ever admit to being this sentimental, but I lingered a moment and said a silent goodbye to all the memories in the apartment. From the first day we moved in, during the summer between high school and college, to watching Ned and Betty pull away and drinking that bottle of wine last night with Peter, and all of the insanity in between.

I headed back over to Peter, and sat down with him.

“Do you know how much longer?”

“They called and said ten minutes.”

I got comfortable, or as comfortable as you can get on boxes of cardboard. Peter’s phone rang, and he answered.

“Hey, May. Yeah, the movers are on their way. We’re all ready, I promise. We’re waiting in the lobby. I- yeah. It should be fine. We’re adults. Okay, yeah, I’ll talk to you later. Yeah, I’ll tell her. Okay. I love you too. Alright. Okay. I will. Okay. Bye.”

He hung up.

“She says hi.”

I chuckled. “Sounds like she had a lot of things to say.”

He sucked in a breath. “You would not believe.”

A truck pulled up outside, and a bunch of very buff dudes came out.

“You guys Peter and MJ?” One of them asked as he came into the lobby.

“Yep,” Peter said, standing up.

The guys started loading things into their truck, and then Peter and I went down to his car and followed them over to our new building. We got our keys, and the guys helped us bring everything up to the new place.

It took all day, and by the time the sun was setting, Peter and I were both too tired to even think about starting to unpack.

Our old place came furnished, but our new one didn’t. Neither of us felt like sleeping just on the floor, so we gathered up all of our energy, and unpacked our bedding, layering our comforters and throw blankets on the floor of the living room, making a makeshift bed for the night.

We laid down next to each other for the night. Peter slept on his side, facing the windows, and I slept on my back, very aware of how close we were to each other. I could feel the warmth coming off his body.

“We’ve got a nice view.”

I propped myself up on my elbows, looking over Peter’s body at the city lights. “We do.” My eyes fell from the lights to Peter, admiring his hair and the profile of his face.

Yeah, some feelings were starting to develop here.

Although, if I really thought about it, they didn’t feel new, they just felt amplified.

“Do you think we’ll stay close to Ned and Betty?” Peter asked, his voice soft and fragile.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“What if we don’t see them until after exams in April?”

“We have FaceTime. You have a car. I’m sure Mr. Stark could help out somehow, if you asked him.”

Peter sighed, turning onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “This is the first time since we were kids that Ned and I haven’t been five minutes apart. It’s weird.”

“That sounds codependent,” I teased, nudging him. “You guys are brothers. No amount of distance is gonna change that.” I laid down again, turning onto my side to face him. “Especially not a measly three hour drive.”

Peter turned his head to look at me. “When did you start giving such great pep talks?”

I shrugged. “Being decathlon captain teaches you a few things.”

He chuckled, his laugh dying into a soft smile.

I wanted to run my thumb over his lips. Or interrupt his smile with my own lips pressed against his. I wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

Our faces were maybe six inches apart. Painfully close, yet so, so far.

I didn’t realize how long I’d been staring at him until he said, “Is there something on my face?”

I shook my head. “Sorry. I’ve got sleepy stares.”

He gave me another soft smile. “Go to sleep, then.”

I didn’t want to. I wanted to stare at him.

I had always known that Peter was cute, in that boyish way. But it was striking me that he was kind of beautiful. Perfect cheekbones and jawline and an adorable smile and gorgeous eyes and moonlight reflecting on his smooth skin and hair that was begging for me to play with it.

“Alright. Okay.”

“Goodnight, Em.”

“Goodnight,” I whispered, closing my eyes.


	2. the way he acts when he's drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which peter is an absolute adorable sweetheart when inebriated
> 
> also hey! idk where all these new hits are coming from but while you're here follow me [on twitter for updates on new chapters](https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3) or [on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spideychelletings)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a content warning: there's some material surrounding sexual assault closer to the end

About a week after we moved into the new place, I had a late night at work. I had to go to an event to take photos, and then spent a few hours back in the office working on my story. I’d texted Peter to make sure he didn’t get hurt while he was out patrolling, and since he was fine, I was in no rush to get home.

It was around 2a.m. when I walked in the door. I wasn’t expecting him to be up, by any means. I figured he’d be exhausted. But he was sitting on our new couch, watching Netflix on his laptop (because we had yet to be able to afford a TV).

“You’re up late,” I remarked, hanging my coat in the hallway closet. He looked over at me, and I saw how rosy his cheeks were. I glanced down next to him and saw a few empty beer bottles. 4…5…6. He’d had a full six-pack.

“Well, it’s a Friday night. Might as well party.”

“Oh, yeah, you look like you’re going absolutely wild.”

I headed over to the dining table (we bought it second-hand for just over a hundred bucks but it was an antique worth at least a couple grand, and I was in love with it) and put my purse down, digging through it to pull out my wallet and phone so I didn’t forget them on my way to the office tomorrow. I usually just brought a backpack to work. Easier to keep a folder in.

“You got all dolled up.”

“Yeah, I was at some gala event writing a story on some millionaire and the amount he gives to charity. Spoiler alert: he’d be helping more people if he just paid his taxes.”

Peter narrowed his eyes at me, and I braced myself for the comment about how much better I looked when I dressed up.

“You don’t look like yourself,” he said softly. “Where’s my curly-haired, bare-faced MJ?”

I laughed, kind of surprised by his reaction.

He climbed over the back of the couch and came over. “It’s so weird seeing your hair like this.”

For the record, my hair was straightened and pulled into an updo. Whatever it took to be considered more ‘professional’, right?

He started pulling bobby pins and clips out, and fluffed my hair out as it fell around my shoulders. I kinda just…let him, because I wasn’t used to this from him. I didn’t see him drunk very often, I realized.

He smiled a little. That stupid smile. “That’s better. Not perfect, though, your curls suit you better.”

I smiled back. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Same with the makeup. Don’t get me wrong, you look great right now, but you just don’t look like yourself. Not that I’m telling you what you should or shouldn’t do,” he slurred, “but I think you look better without it.”

“How so?”

“The makeup covers up how perfect your skin is, and how pretty your eyes are.”

I stared at him.

“The one thing about this whole ‘going-out’ look of yours that I really like is how tall you are right now. It’s like…godly, kind of.”

“What?”

“You look like…um…Artemis. That’s her name. Like you could be the goddess of the moon and the hunt and all that cool stuff. The height suits you.”

I smiled, tucking some hair behind my ear. “Thanks for the input, Parker.”

His face fell. “I didn’t- I wasn’t- did I-”

“No, it’s fine. It was nice to hear that I look better when I’m not all dolled up, for a change. I tend to get the opposite from guys.”

Peter frowned. “You should talk to better guys.”

I swallowed. “I do.”

There was a long silence as we held eye contact. I wanted to kiss him so badly right now, but he was drunk, and I was a scaredy-cat. I cleared my throat, and picked up my purse.

“I’m, uh, gonna go to bed. Have a good night, Peter.”

“Sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too.”

\---

The second time I saw Peter drunk was when I rushed home after a lecture because I’d gotten a ‘hey I just got lightly stabbed can you come home?’ text.

He was sitting on the kitchen floor with a bottle of whiskey, holding his hand over a wound in his leg, mask off and on the floor next to him but otherwise still in the suit.

“Dude, what happened?” I asked, tossing my backpack aside and rushing over to him.

“So,” he slurred, clearly already very drunk, “I was…a few blocks away. And this guy just…has this girl, and they’re in an alley, and he’s got her against the wall, and…he slides a hand up her skirt and she’s trying to push him off. So I swung in and tackled him and we kinda just…wrestled, for a bit. And, um, then he pulled a knife on me. Don’t worry, though, the girl’s fine and I webbed him to a dumpster.”

I looked at him sternly. “And why the drinking?”

His voice took on a childish quality. “It hurts…a lot.”

“Okay, well, let’s get you cleaned up and bandaged. Sound good?”

He nodded.

I gently took the bottle away from him and set it up on the counter, and then pressed the emblem in the middle of his chest to loosen the suit.

I had never actually had to undress him before. Usually he had me turn around and only exposed as much skin as he needed to for me to help him. But he was a little too drunk for that right now, so here we were.

My fingers brushed over the skin of his chest as I pulled the suit down, and then over his hips. He lifted his hips a little so I could get the suit past his butt, and I saw his abs flex when he did.

That was…hotter than I was willing to admit.

I pulled the suit down his legs, ignoring all the muscle definition in his thighs, and focused on the wound. It was a shallow stab wound on the outer portion of his thigh, so knowing his usual healing patterns, it would likely be healed by morning.

I stood up, going to our medicine cabinet and pulling out our little first aid kit.

“Do you want something to bite down on?” I asked.

He shrugged. “That’s what the whiskey is for.”

I frowned, but I had my answer, so that was good enough. I sat down in front of him again, gently cleaning his wound. He winced, and his muscles tensed. I was trying hard to focus but I’d never seen him this close to naked and so I’d never realized how muscley he was.

On top of that, he was wearing boxer briefs, which meant I could see the outline of a certain appendage.

I had gone too long without any action to be able to handle this with a clear mind.

I bandaged up the wound, and helped him to his feet.

“How’s it feel?” I asked. “The bandage isn’t too tight?”

“It’s good. Thanks, Em.”

“Anytime.” I pulled his arm over my shoulders and supported some of his weight, and then led him into his room. He finally had a mattress and a bed frame, so I helped him into bed, and pulled the covers up around him. “I’m gonna get you some water and aspirin for the morning.”

“Good idea,” he slurred, giving me a lazy smile.

Stupid smile.

Stupid me.

I left the room and filled up a water bottle for him, and then got out a couple aspirins and brought them back to his room. I could already hear some soft snores, so I set them down quietly on his nightstand (which, for the moment, was a cardboard box).

He looked so peaceful.

I gently pushed some stray curls out of his face, admiring his soft skin and perfect bone structure. I almost leaned over and kissed his forehead, but thought better of it at the last second, and instead padded silently out of his room, closing the door delicately behind myself.

\---

The third time was at a party.

It was about a month later, and we mostly went because both of us had spent too much time at home recently. A classmate invited me, so I took Peter as my plus one.

What I didn’t expect was to run into Harry Osborn.

Harry and I had…history. Uncomfortable history. Something that started off as innocent as friends with benefits could be and ended with me trying to push him off of me and screaming “no” and “stop” and him not listening.

When I saw him, my breath caught in my throat.

I found the first bottle of alcohol I could find, and the first Solo cup I could find, and poured about four ounces of liquor and tossed it all back.

It didn’t take long to hit hard.

But the gross feeling under my skin stayed put.

I watched from across a room as Peter and Harry did the bro-hug and started smiling and chatting. I felt pangs of betrayal, despite the fact that Peter didn’t know. Nobody knew.

I texted Betty.

_Me: Im at a part y w peter and we ran into harry_

_Betty: oh! how is he?? I’ve been meaning to catch up with him_

_Me: no no no this is bad_

_Betty: why?_

_Me: bc harry and I have some bad history and right now I feel sick and aw ful and I wanna go home or cry or something but idk what to do_

_Betty: what happened between you guys???_

_Me: I said no_

_I watched the three little dots that indicated typing pop up and go away a few times before my phone buzzed with a new message._

_Betty: so when am I helping you kill this man_

_Me: just tell me what to do right now_

_Betty: just tell peter you wanna go home_

_Me: he’s having fun tho_

_Betty: mj it’s your safety. or call an uber and tell him you’ll see him at home. whichever you prefer_

I started to type out a reply, but then I heard, “MJ!”

Harry was walking towards me, arms outstretched, a grin on his face. I could see the knowing twinkle in his eye, and I wanted to puke.

“Osborn,” I spat. “Always a pleasure.”

He pulled me into a hug that made me wanna curl into myself and die.

“Peter here just told me that you guys are living on your own, now.”

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing thickly. “Ned and Betty left so we didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Hey, you can always invite me.”

The night it all happened flashed through my head. I could remember the smell of his cologne and the shirt he was wearing and the feeling of his hands wrapped around my wrists and-

“I’m sorry, I just- excuse me.”

I ran off, trying to find a quiet corner to sit and breathe before a panic attack set in.

_Come on, MJ. It’s been years. You’re over this. It was one time. Come on, stop freaking out. You’re supposed to be stronger than this._

“Hey, are you okay?”

Peter’s voice was soft and concerned.

“No,” I said, choking up.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs. It’s quieter.”

He held out his hand, watching me to gauge my reaction. I tenderly took his hand, and he intertwined our fingers, leading me up to the second level of the frat house.

He took me into a bedroom, and closed the door behind us. He sat me down on the bed and kneeled in front of me, attentive and concerned.

If it were anybody but Peter, I’d be scared. But it _was_ Peter. So I was safe.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” he asked, softly.

I shook my head.

“What do you need from me? Do you want a hug? Do you want me to just keep you company?”

“Sleep with me.” The words were out of my mouth before I could think about what that meant.

He just took a deep breath. “MJ, you’re drunk, and you’re clearly hurting. I’m not taking advantage of you like that.”

The logical part of my brain was thinking, _and this is why you’re safe with him_.

The drunk part of my brain just felt rejected.

I needed a memory that wasn’t Harry. I wanted Peter. I wanted him to replace that and to be able to feel safe and in control.

“MJ?”

I looked up at the ceiling, willing away tears. “Please.”

“No. No, I’m not- MJ, you’re drunk as hell and so am I and you’re clearly dealing with something here, and I don’t think sleeping with me is going to make you feel better. It’s probably just going to make you feel worse.”

“You don’t understand.”

He slipped his hands into mine, tenderly running his thumbs over my knuckles. “No, I don’t.”

Tears fell, streaking down my cheeks and landing on our hands. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I’m sorry I ruined your night.”

“You didn’t ruin anything. Stop apologizing.”

I finally met his eyes. Big and brown and sparkly and full of worry.

It was easy to pretend for the moment he felt the same way about me as I did about him.

“Can I take a guess?” he whispered.

“Yeah.”

“Did Harry hurt you?”

I bit my lip. “Yeah, in a sense.”

Peter squeezed my hands. “I’m sorry.”

I laughed a little, bitterly. “Why do you think I’m such a feminist? Why I’m so aggressive about it?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. It’s one of the most loveable things about you.”

I frowned, confused. Did he just call me loveable?

“You care so deeply about all these important issues. Wealth gaps and abortion rights and sexual violence. The people who care so deeply are the ones that make change happen. It’s admirable.”

“Says the guy who puts his life on the line every day.”

“Hey, throwing punches is easy. Hugging Harry had to be the hardest thing you’ve done in a long time.”

I nodded.

“Do you wanna go home?”

“I can order an Uber. You can stay if you’re having fun.”

“I’d rather be with you,” he assured me. “I’ll call Happy.”

So he did. I listened to his drunken speech as he told Harry where we were and explained we needed a ride home and that he needed someone we trusted. And then he hung up and told me we could head downstairs, if I was feeling up to it.

The only way out was through the party, so I sucked in a breath and got up, heading downstairs with Peter.

Harry was leaning against a wall at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for us. I tensed up, readying myself for an interaction that would make me nauseous.

“That was quick. Peter, do you need some tips on lasting longer?”

“Not funny, Osborn.”

“Whoa, what’s with the hostility?” Harry got up in Peter’s face. Oh, no.

“Just don’t feel like being friends with a rapey asshole. Lose my number, please.”

“What, you believe this bitch over me? You’ve known me your whole life.”

“Yeah. Which was why I wasn’t surprised. You’ve always treated people like things you could own or use.”

Harry chuckled. “You’re just drunk, buddy. You’ll sleep this off.”

“Like I slept off the Rohypnol?” I snapped.

There were a few spectators, now, watching this whole thing go down.

“Just a jealous ex-girlfriend here, everybody. Nothing to see!” Harry yelled, trying to turn the crowd away, but Peter piped up.

“He’s lying. They didn’t date, he took advantage of her. Someone he was friends with, someone who should’ve been able to trust him. So keep an eye on your drinks, ladies, and maybe talk to guys with enough natural charisma that they don’t need to drug you to earn any intimacy with you.”

Peter shot Harry one last glare, putting himself between me and him, giving me an opening to head to the front doors without fear of Harry touching me.

I sat down on the front steps, waiting for Happy’s familiar car to come around the corner.

A couple minutes after I sat down, Peter joined me. His knuckles were red.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing unprovoked.”

I sighed, letting my head rest on his shoulder. “Thank you, Peter.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Just, you know, don’t get too used to the idea of me being a damsel in distress.”

He chuckled. “There’s the MJ I know and love.”

Love.

I tried not to dwell on that word.

“You okay?”

“Better now.” I hesitated. “You’re the only person I’ve told,” I admitted.

“Why?”

“It hurts to think about. Let alone talk about.”

“Yeah. That’s understandable.”

“Thanks for not fucking me,” I whispered.

Peter’s hand landed on my back, rubbing up and down. “What are friends for?” It was half of a joke.

I gave him half of a laugh.

Happy pulled up and we got in. I laid down across the seats, too drunk for my own comfort, and Peter let me lay my head in his lap.

I woke up being carried down the corridor to our apartment.

I didn’t open my eyes, just enjoyed the feeling of being carried and being held close to his chest.

He laid me down in my bed, and I heard him set a glass of water on my nightstand.

“Goodnight, Em.”

_Goodnight._


	3. his eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey! idk where all these new hits are coming from but while you're here follow me [on twitter for updates on new chapters](https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3) or [on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spideychelletings)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its so short lol a bitch got busy

We’d found a routine. We’d trade off on cooking duties, spend weekend nights talking from the time the sun dipped below the horizon until it started to rise again, and, of course, I’d help him on the nights he came home beaten and bruised.

Maybe his spidey-sense was rubbing off on me, but I had a feeling that Peter was gonna come home hurt this particular Thursday night.

I set out the first aid kit, got fresh clothes out, and sat on the couch next to the fire escape with my homework.

_Incoming FaceTime from Betty Brant_

I accepted the call, and propped my phone up on the cushions, rearranging myself a little to fit better in the frame.

“Hey!”

“Hi, Bets. How’s your week going?”

“Pretty good. Are you and Peter both home? I wanted it to be a bit of an announcement.”

“Nope, he’s still out patrolling. What’s up? Did you finally get that promotion?” I gasped. “Are you pregnant?”

“What? No, no, neither of those. Ned, honey, wanna call Peter and tell him?”

“Tell him whaaaat?” I whined.

Betty grinned, and held up her left hand. Her ring finger was glittering with a new ring.

“Oh my god! Are you serious!”

“Yes! I came home to an apartment full of rose petals and candles, and Ned gave me this big cheesy speech-”

“You can blame Peter, he helped me write it,” Ned quipped from out of frame.

“Why was I left out of this? I’m a writer.”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Men.”

I laughed. “I’m so happy for you guys.”

“We’re thinking we’ll do a small wedding in New York. Probably in a few months. I don’t want anything big or fancy, you know?”

“Absolutely. If you need help planning-”

“I’m already sending you my Pinterest board. You need to help me organize my thoughts.”

I smiled. “Sounds good. Okay, go get some engagement sex, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Betty giggled, blushing. “Love you, Em.”

“Love you too, now go get it!”

“Okay, okay. Goodnight!”

“Night.”

I hung up, and sat with the news a little. Betty and Ned were gonna be married before I ever even really had a relationship. All because I was too much of a coward to just tell Peter I wanted to kiss him.

I looked around the empty apartment. It suddenly seemed too big. I wanted cozy and warm, and right now it was a grey expanse.

I knew that the second Peter stepped foot back in here, it’d feel warm and cozy. I didn’t know if that was the effect he had or my own delusions going wild.

Shaking off the train of thought, I turned back to my homework. I got through a fair amount of work before I heard a _thud_ on the fire escape.

I looked up, and there he was.

Spider-Man.

He stood there, swaying a moment, and then crumpled.

Jesus. Sometimes I hated being right.

I set my laptop aside and opened the window, climbing out onto the fire escape.

“Hey, MJ.”

“Hey. Let’s get you inside.”

I helped him up, and supported some of his weight as he tried to get through the window. He managed to slide in, nearly collapsing again as his feet landed on the hardwood floor. I slid in and closed the window behind us, and sat him down at the dining table. He pulled his mask off, sweaty hair flopping down over his forehead. He had a black eye and a split lip, and some blood trickling down from a small wound on his forehead.

“What happened?”

“I, uh, got thrown into the side of a building.”

“Did you hit your head?” I asked, starting to wipe the blood away.

He gave me a half-smile. “Just a little bit.”

I returned his smile. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

Peter glanced down at his body, frowning a little, before looking back up at me. “Nope.”

“You had to check?”

He shrugged. “Just to be sure.”

His eyes were big and brown and sparkly and beautiful and unusually vulnerable. There was a softness and fragility and innocence to them right now, and it made me want to cradle him and stop him from ever getting hurt again.

I shook that off, and finished cleaning his wounds, putting a little bandage over his forehead wound and some ointment on his split lip. I helped him change and get into bed.

“You’re definitely concussed, so I’m gonna keep waking you up during the night, okay?”

Peter frowned. “Just stay in here, then.”

I tried to laugh it off, but he grabbed my hand and tugged, the way kids do when they want you to stay.

There were those big brown eyes again. “Please? I’m cold and I don’t wanna be alone. I can take the floor.”

“Stay in bed, Peter.”

“Please stay,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I don’t wanna have nightmares.”

That struck me. I didn’t know he got nightmares. It hadn’t occurred to me, but yeah, of course he did. He had trauma on trauma on trauma.

“Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

I left, changing into my pjs, brushing my teeth, and pulling my hair up into a bun before I returned to Peter’s room.

I slipped under the covers, getting comfortable next to him.

He laid on his side so he could look at me. His eyes even sparkled in the dark.

“Thanks, Em.”

“Of course.” I reached over and pushed some hair out of his face. “Get some rest, okay? I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

He smiled sleepily, eyes drifting shut.

\---

After that night, his eyes were hard not to pay attention to. The way they turned to pools of dark honey in the sun, the way they narrowed when we were joking. His long lashes and wide eyed gaze.

I was in love with him. Him and his stupid brown eyes.


	4. his voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey! idk where all these new hits are coming from but while you're here follow me [on twitter for updates on new chapters](https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3) or [on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spideychelletings)

Peter hummed. A lot. While cleaning, mostly. But also when he was doing homework, or when we were cooking pasta, or when I was stitching up a fresh wound.

It was sort of calming. Grounding. It made his presence seem more real, on the days where I was too tired to know what year it was or who I was.

That happened often, considering my work and school schedule. Sleep slowly lost its value in my daily routine and became more of an occasional treat, reserved for after exams or midterm writing marathons.

On this particular day, I was working on the couch, papers laid out on the coffee table, and Peter was in the kitchen, making us lunch, humming one of the Star Wars themes.

I couldn’t help but pay attention to him and his melody. It was much more captivating than the article I was writing, anyways.

Okay, I needed a break.

I put my head down, just for a moment, so I could listen to Peter. His voice had this slightly rough quality, the type that meant he’d never had any vocal training, but even so it was so…relaxing…

“Hey. Em.”

I blinked my eyes open. “Hi.”

Peter smiled at me. “You dozed off.”

I yawned. “No shit, Sherlock.”

“I’d let you sleep, but your stomach was growling in your sleep, and I just finished lunch.”

I slowly sat up, rubbing my eyes. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He was looking at me, like he wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. He helped me up, and made me sit at the table. He put a plate of chicken and roasted veggies in front of me. “Enjoy.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You didn’t happen to overcook the chicken again, did you?”

“That was one time!”

“And it was inedible!”

We stared at each other, and then both cracked up.

“Just eat your food,” Peter said, still laughing lightly.

\---

That night, I was up late, sitting at the table and working on some homework.

Peter sleepily padded out of his room and into the kitchen.

“Hey, what are you still doing up?”

“Same as usual.”

“You should get some rest. The wedding’s in a few days, and I’m sure Betty wants her Maid of Honour to be well rested.”

“Okay, but if I wanna have time for all the partying, I gotta finish all this work.”

Peter stopped trying to fight it, and started humming to himself. It was some Billie Eilish song. One of the sad ones. He reached into the cupboard and pulled out one of our four mugs, and started making himself some hot chocolate.

Slowly, humming turned to soft singing.

“Maybe won’t you take it back, say you were trying to make me laugh, and nothing has to change today, you didn’t mean to say ‘I love you’,” Peter sang, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

I wasn’t typing anymore.

“I love you, and I don’t want to.”

I closed my eyes, wishing he meant the words he was singing.

When I opened them again, Peter’s hand was on my shoulder.

“Hey,” he whispered, “go to bed.”

I shook my head, shaking off the sleep. “No, I gotta- I gotta finish this. I just have to make the bibliography.”

“I’ll do it,” Peter assured me.

“No-”

“It’s not an offer, MJ. Go to bed. You need the rest.”

I looked up at him. _I love you, and I don’t want to._

“Okay.”

I stood up, and Peter took my place in front of my laptop.

I could hear his quiet voice and the typing noises from my room, which made it a million times easier to sleep than normal.

\---

The day of the wedding rolled around. Ned and Betty had rented out a small hall, and there were only a few of us. Cindy and Liz had made it, accepting their role as Betty’s bridesmaids. We were all hungover from the bachelorette party the night before, most of which I couldn’t remember. We were upstairs, in a dressing room, getting ready, while the boys were back at the apartment.

Cindy was doing Betty’s makeup, and Liz was doing her hair, artfully arranging it into a beautiful updo. I helped Betty into her dress, a simple but elegant piece that suited her perfectly, and clipped in her veil.

Betty looked at herself in the mirror, and the three of us gathered behind her.

Betty started to tear up. “Oh, you guys did such a great job.”

“You’re so beautiful,” Liz assured her, fluffing out the veil. “Ned’s a lucky man.”

“The luckiest,” Cindy added. “And we’ll make sure he remembers it for the rest of his life.”

We finished getting ready, and made sure everything was in place for the ceremony. Betty gave me her vows to hold onto.

Before we knew it, I was standing at the end of the aisle, arm linked with Peter’s.

“How was your night?” he asked, tone hushed.

“Good enough that I have a hangover,” I answered.

Peter grinned. “Me too.”

I quietly high-fived him.

The music started, and Liz and Ned’s cousin started walking down the aisle.

“Time really flies, doesn’t it? I feel like last week we were watching them flirt on a plane.”

“You were watching them flirt,” Peter reminded me.

Cindy and another of Ned’s cousins started walking. “And what were you watching?” I retorted.

He hesitated. “You.”

I wanted to reply, but Peter started walking, so I had to walk to keep up.

We went down the aisle, arm in arm, smiling at Ned and Betty’s family sitting on either side, and then split at the altar. Peter stood with Ned and the other groomsmen, and I stood with Cindy and Liz.

My heart was pounding. He was watching me on that flight? That was, what, seven years ago? What did that mean? Did he have feelings for me back then? Did he have feelings for me _now?_

And then Betty was making her way down the aisle, arm linked with her dad’s, a beautiful bouquet in her hands. She was smiling. Glowing, even. I watched as Ned teared up.

She got to the altar, and her dad kissed her on the cheek, then sat down with her mom.

Mr. Harrington, their officiant, cleared his throat.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are gathered here today to celebrate the love of two of my favourite students.”

Peter gasped. “Hey!”

The whole hall laughed, but Peter was looking at me, smiling.

_Ba dum, ba dum, ba dum…_

“Ned and Betty sat next to each other on a flight to Europe, back when they were my students, and from there, we’ve all been lucky to watch their love flourish into something beautiful.”

Ned smiled at Betty, tears still gathered in his eyes.

“There has been no greater honour than to be the one who sat you together on that flight, and it is the greatest joy to be the one-” He stopped to sniffle, “-joining you two together in matrimony.” Mr. Harrington cleared his throat. “I believe you two prepared your own vows?”

Ned began. “We have had so many adventures together. From the Ferris wheel in Prague, to moving in with our two best friends, to moving to Albany together and only having each other. I was so nervous for it to be just the two of us. I was worried we’d run out of ways to have fun, that we’d quickly become an old married couple, and lose our spark. But I am the luckiest man alive, because every day you fan that spark into a flame, and make everything we do full of fun and wonder. Everything feels new. And I cannot wait to grow old with that feeling. I love you so so so much, Betty.”

Betty had to wipe away tears before she reached out for her vows. I handed a folded piece of paper to her, and took her bouquet as she unfolded it.

“I spent forever trying to write these vows. At first, I couldn’t find the words. And then I found too many and my vows could’ve filled an encyclopedia. But now I think there’s only a few things that need to be said. I need to tell you that I love all of your little mannerisms, like the way you speak so expressively, and your gestures when I ask you something when your mouth is full. I need to tell you that I love how geeky you are, and even though I don’t really like the Star Wars movies-” Peter gasped, and Betty chuckled, “-I love watching you watch them, just seeing you get lost in the world and get so happy. I need to tell you that I love your cooking, and your lunchtime calls to remind me you love me, and the little things you do for me, like bringing home danishes from the bakery across the street or buying Saturday morning coffee from Starbucks. And I need you to know that I love you and everything about you and I always will.”

Mr. Harrington sniffled. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Leeds. You may now kiss the bride.”

The two kissed, and we all cheered.

Ned and Betty didn’t really organize a big dinner. We had more of a classed up pizza party, complete with champagne and a photo booth. Dancing seemed to just…begin whenever.

And then the throw of the garter and the bouquet.

I didn’t quite see who in the sea of Ned’s family caught the garter.

I stood with the girls, Ned’s mom and aunts, and we watched as Betty prepared to throw the bouquet.

I wasn’t too worried about catching it. I figured it was more Liz’s game, than anything.

Betty threw it, and I reached up with the other girls, and it landed smack in my hands.

Cool.

Betty pulled me up to dance with whoever’d caught the garter, and lo and behold, I found myself alone on the dancefloor with Peter.

“Spider powers came in handy with the garter?” I asked, softly so nobody could hear over the music.

Peter rolled his eyes but smiled, putting a hand on my waist and his other hand finding mine. “I guess.”

We started to slow dance, and suddenly the air felt like it was buzzing with tension and electricity.

Peter started singing along to the music. “I won’t run, I won’t fly, I won’t ever make it by, without you.”

I found myself watching his lips move. What if…


	5. his lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey! idk where all these new hits are coming from but while you're here follow me [on twitter for updates on new chapters](https://twitter.com/caramelx3ao3) or [on tumblr for general writing stuff including writing lil pieces and taking requests!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/spideychelletings)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter kiddos! sorry this fic was so short lol but I hope you enjoyed!  
> on another note, I finally made a twitter (@caramelx3ao3) that you can follow for writing updates, so when I upload new chapters or a new fic i'll post on there :)
> 
> oh, also. smut warning for this chapter ;)

I swallowed, watching his lips move as he sang along with David Guetta. My heart was pounding.

The second the “what if?” crossed my mind, I found myself dancing closer.

We were chest-to-chest, and Peter’s voice had trailed off, and our eyes were locked.

Part of my brain was warning me, trying to tell me, _“Hey, bud, I know you’ve been really thirsting for this man for a while, but there’s a lot of people watching you right now and this seems like it’s maybe not your best idea.”_

Part of my brain, a part that was either too sleep deprived or too in love with Peter to care, said, _“Fuck it. What have you got to lose?”_

Before the logical part of my brain could retort, I leaned in, pressing my lips to his.

Our feet stilled on the dance floor. He let go of my hand and slid his hand around my neck. I let myself sink into him, pressing my body against his.

_Badumbadumbadumbadumbadum-_

He had the softest lips, and he was holding me so tenderly but still tight against his body and I was in love, I was so in love with him.

Whoops and cheers started to rise from the small crowd, and I realized that the logical part of my brain had been right, and embarrassment started to set in.

I tried to laugh it off, and our dance was cut short.

Fortunately, there were no shortages of dances together that night.

\---

I woke up the next morning, curled up next to Peter in my bed, still wearing my clothes from last night, head aching from all of last night’s alcohol. Thankfully, I didn’t black out last night, so I remembered enough that I knew we didn’t do anything more than kiss when we got in.

It also means I remembered all our soft kisses in the darkness of our apartment, both of us drunk and sleepy but finding ourselves addicted to each other’s lips.

This morning, light streamed in through my open door. His face was lit up, painted gold by sunshine.

I admired him and all his beauty for a moment, and then snuggled back in for a little snooze before facing the day. However, my snuggling woke him up.

Sunlight turned his irises into pools of molten chocolate, and I felt my heartrate speed up as his eyes found mine.

“Morning, Em.”

“G’morning,” I whispered back.

He rubbed his eyes, and slowly sat up. “Do you wanna make breakfast, or go to the diner?”

“Diner,” I grumbled. “They’ve got hangover-curing milkshakes.”

So we did. We got dressed, and headed out, walking a couple blocks to the nearest diner, and settling into a booth.

I ordered my usual, pancakes and sausages, and Peter ordered his usual, eggs benedict with toast. We got chocolate milkshakes to go with our breakfasts, too, because how dare we could forget?

We chatted idly about how beautiful the wedding was, and joked about the wild sex Ned and Betty must’ve had.

And then it fell silent, and the elephant in the room seemed to get bigger.

The waitress came by and dropped off our food, and then tension lifted for a moment as we thanked her and dug in, mumbling through mouthfuls about how good the food was.

And then silence fell again, and I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.

“Do you…wanna talk about last night?” Peter asked nervously.

I sipped at my milkshake. “What about last night?”

“The, um, the kiss on the dance floor? And then…every kiss after that.”

I swallowed thickly, realizing I couldn’t really put this off any longer.

But before I could say anything, Peter spoke up again. “I just…wanted to ask what it meant to you. Be-because, um, I’ve kind of been in-in love with you, I guess, since…before the Blip, and you kissed me, and it gave me hope and I want it to be real but it’s only real if it’s- if you feel the same way, and-”

“Peter, stop,” I interrupted, and his jaw snapped shut, eyes wide. “Why else would I kiss you?”

His eyes, somehow, grew wider. “I-I don’t know.”

“Of course it meant something to me. It’s been- I’ve been- ever since we moved into the new place, I’ve had a…hard time, trying to sort out how I feel and what to do about it.”

“What do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes. He could be so oblivious. “I’m in love with you, too, dumbass.”

He stared at me. “O-oh.”

He took a bite of toast.

“S-so, um, do you wanna…go on a date tonight?”

I laughed. “Does this not count as a date?”

“I think we’d have to be sharing a milkshake for it to classify,” Peter teased.

I slid my milkshake across to him, and slid his towards mine, taking a sip. “There, we’re sharing.”

Peter laughed. “Okay, deal. It’s a date.”

We finished our meal at the diner, and Peter graciously paid, and then we decided to go for a walk.

We got half a block before I summoned up the courage to slip my hand into his. I could feel sparks under my fingers as they slid over his palm, and my heartrate spiked when he intertwined our fingers.

He looked over at me, a soft smile already on his lips. When I smiled back, his smile grew.

We walked around New York, hand-in-hand, talking, for hours. When we eventually made it back to our apartment, we curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a movie.

It was pretty early in the afternoon, but it’d been a crazy couple of days, and we’d had a long walk, so I pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and onto us, and then laid my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes.

I didn’t remember any of the dreams, but I remember them being pleasant.

When I woke up, the sun was setting, and Peter was stroking my hair.

“Did you sleep at all?” I asked, my voice still heavy with sleep.

“About an hour. I’ve had better sleep habits than you, though, so you probably needed it more.”

“Did you just shade me and justify my excessive napping in the same sentence?”

Peter smiled. “Yep.”

“Is my personality contagious?”

He laughed, and it sounded like actual heaven. I propped myself up a bit, pushing my hair to one side so it didn’t all fall in his face, and looked at him.

“I diagnose you with asshole,” I teased.

He chuckled again. “Does that make you Patient Zero?”

“I don’t think I’m the first person to be an asshole by a long shot. Trump is quite a bit older than me.”

“Not to mention Columbus.”

I snorted softly, and Peter pulled me down to kiss him. I hummed against his lips, settling in a little.

It started off soft and slow, but Peter ran a hand up my back, and it lifted my shirt, and then the kiss started to get more heated. Soft moans filled the apartment, and hands began to roam more, each of us hesitant to test the boundaries but eager for more.

Something about his kisses was intoxicating. Like his lips were infused with love magic. I wanted to pause time and just kiss him until our lips were raw.

I moved a hand from where it was propping me up on the couch to Peter’s chest, slowly running down towards his stomach. Peter let out the softest of moans, and somehow made it sound sexual and innocent at the same time.

He was gonna be the death of me, wasn’t he?

I let my lips deviate from his, and kissed along his jaw, and then under his ear, and then slowly down his neck.

“Em,” he whispered, hands firmly grasping my waist, in a way that seemed to convey seven years of want.

“Mhm?”

“I love you.”

I stopped for a second, and looked at him. “I love you, too.”

“Before we get…too heated…can I ask you to be my girlfriend?”

I quirked an eyebrow up. “So we’re gonna get more heated?”

His eyes went impossibly wide. “I mean- only if you want to, Em, I don’t wanna- you’ve been through shit and I don’t wanna- I want you to feel safe and-and you can say no, and-”

“Peter.”

He stopped rambling.

“First of all, you’re literally a superhero. I can’t think of anyone I feel safer with. And second, yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, you dork.”

He let out a relieved breath, smiling. “You like to keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

I ducked back in, kissing his neck. He let out a surprised, adorable half-moan half-squeak. “Yes, yes I do.”

His hands were still on my waist, fabric hiked up around them, and I found almost feel him itching to take my shirt off, so I sat up, grabbing the hem of the fabric and pulling it off over my head.

Peter was staring at me like I was a goddess.

“What?”

“N-nothing.”

I leaned back down and kept kissing him. I could feel a certain appendage hardening against my leg, so I tentatively reached down, trying to undo his belt with one hand.

“MJ,” Peter said, his voice more insistent this time.

I pulled back. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No, no no no, just…I wanted to make sure we’re not going too fast for you.”

I smiled reassuringly. “We’re going just as fast as I want to. Is this too fast for you?”

“Not fast enough,” he breathed, hands going to my sweatpant-clad hips.

I grinned, undoing his belt properly. “Great, I’ve got a horndog for a boyfriend.”

He smiled as I unbuttoned his jeans. “I like you calling me your boyfriend.”

“Get used to it. I plan to be calling you that for a long time.”

And then I lowered myself again, kissing his lower stomach, hooking fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pulling them down. I could hear Peter’s breath catch in his throat, and his hands landed in my hair.

“You’re gonna have to tell me what you like and don’t like.”

“I will,” Peter breathed.

I tugged his boxers down just a bit more, and his dick sprang free.

I figured I’d start off slow, try to tease him a bit, so I started with soft, slow licks at the tip, wrapping my hand around the base to keep him where I wanted him.

Peter’s head fell back a bit.

I swirled my tongue around the tip a few more times, then closed my lips around the tip and suckled, drawing out a moan.

“MJ,” he breathed, “holy shit.”

I stopped sucking and flattened my tongue against the base of his dick, slowly licking up, and then taking his whole dick in my mouth. He gasped softly, and I started bobbing my head. I went painfully slowly at first, and then sped up, taking as much in as fast as I could without choking myself.

Peter’s fingers were tangled in my hair, gently tugging and pulling. I could feel his pulse under my tongue, and the twitch at the tip that developed as he got closer.

“Em,” he finally said, “stop.”

I pulled away, wiping some saliva from my mouth with the back of my hand. “Did I-”

“I didn’t wanna cum yet,” he said, pulling his boxers up over his boner. “Come on, we’re switching positions.”

I began to protest, reaching for his waistband, but he was lighting quick and too strong, and my back was hitting couch cushions in the blink of an eye.

His lips were on mine, and then they were pressed under my jaw, and then he nibbled on my earlobe before kissing down my neck. He reached under my back, and looked up at me for permission.

I’d barely nodded before his hands had deftly undone my bra. And then those same hands were pulling the bra away from my body, and it landed on the floor next to my discarded shirt. Peter’s lips were kissing over my collarbone now, and then they trailed down my chest. I gasped a little as he latched into a nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue around it. I found myself lightly digging my nails into his shirt. He switched nipples, and sucked a little harder this time, seeming to realize that he didn’t have to be super gentle with me.

I grew a little desperate, so I gently pushed his head lower. He chuckled a little, and abided me, scooting down on the couch and pulling at the drawstring of my pants. The little bow I’d tied came undone, and the waist loosened. Peter pulled my pants off.

A hand ran up and down my thigh, and I sighed a little.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” Peter asked. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted this with you?”

My cheeks burned. “Peter…”

“Seriously, Em, you’re insanely gorgeous. I’m so lucky.”

His fingers rubbed between my legs, the fabric of my underwear still in the way. I squirmed a little, desperate for more.

“Peter, please-”

He scooted back up and kissed me, his lips catching mine mid-syllable. I let out a soft moan, and grabbed his hand, guiding it under my underwear.

His fingers felt so good.

“Tell me what you like,” he whispered. “I wanna make you feel amazing.”

This man was trying to kill me.

He rubbed right up against my clit, and I let out a whiny moan.

“Like that?”

“Mhm.”

He kept doing it, and I kept moaning into his mouth, arching my back off the couch as he slowly applied more pressure.

I had to break away from the kiss to breathe, and found myself moaning his name before I could catch myself. It was whisper-soft, but Peter still caught it, and smiled.

“Don’t get too cocky on me,” I teased.

His fingers left my clit, pulling my underwear down a little and then pushing into me, slowly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I dug my nails into his back again, biting my lip.

“Relax, Em,” he whispered into my ear. I don’t know if he was trying to be seductive, but holy fuck it was hot.

Just as I started to relax my muscles, he curled his fingers, and pressed right into my g-spot. I moaned, louder this time, unable to stop myself.

Peter was smiling.

“Wipe that smug grin off your face,” I teased breathlessly.

“It’s not smug.” He was being honest. “I’m just really happy.”

I pulled him back down into another kiss, this one more on the soft side. He pulled away from the kiss to press his lips to my cheek, curling his fingers into my g-spot at the same time. I let out a whimpering moan.

“I love you,” he reminded me.

“I love you, too,” I breathed, lifting his shirt desperately. He pulled his fingers out of me, and pulled his shirt off. I went for his pants, next, and he got off the couch and took them off himself, adding his clothes to the growing pile on the floor.

I moved aside a little, making room for him on the couch. He moved to get on top of me, but I pushed him back, making him sit down. I swung a leg over him, and sat back in his lap, knees on either side of his hips.

“As much as I love you in my lap like this, I think you’re gonna have to take off your underwear,” Peter said, cheeks flushing.

I narrowed my eyes at him, making him second guess himself, but cut him off before he could start rambling. “What are you planning to do to me?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

I leaned in, kissing under his ear, before I whispered, “Are you gonna take off your boxers, too?”

“I, um…”

“Are you gonna fuck me, Peter?” I pressed my hips down, grinding against him, and he gripped my waist.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

I reached in between us, pushing his boxers down just enough to free his dick. I rubbed my finger against the tip, and watched Peter tip his head back, lips just slightly parted. I kissed under his jaw, and his grip on my waist got tighter.

“Em-”

I grinded against him again, moaning. Peter’s hands went to my hips, fingers tugging down my panties as far as they would go.

I got off of him, just to pull off my underwear, and then pulled his boxers off of him. I climbed back on, guiding his cock with one hand, rubbing the tip against my clit. Peter moaned.

It might’ve been the most divine sound that existed.

Scratch that, it definitely was.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Peter admitted, tone hushed.

“You’re not going to.”

“I’ve got super strength, MJ. What if I do?”

“I’ll let you know if you’re going too hard,” I assured him, guiding him until just the tip was in. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Peter was looking at me, eyes full of concern, lips parted. I took advantage of his parted lips and kissed him. He moaned against my lips, softly, and I started to rock my hips down onto him. He was about halfway in before he grabbed my hips and thrusted. I cried out, arching my back.

Before he could ask if he’d hurt me, I breathed, “Keep doing that.”

He grabbed my hips, and kept thrusting, eliciting soft moans and cries. After a few moments, he wrapped an arm around me, cradling me, and then flipped us over on the couch.

“Peter-”

He cut me off, kissing me hard. I moaned, burying my hands in his hair. He thrusted, hard and fast, and I moaned.

“Please-”

“You gotta tell me if I hurt you, though.”

“I will, just-just _please_ -”

He kept going, thrusting hard and fast a few times, and then agonizingly slowly for a bit, and alternating. His lips seemed to land wherever, on my lips, my cheek, my neck, my shoulder, my forehead. I wasn’t complaining.

“Can we move to a bed?” I asked.

Peter scooped me up, not pulling out, and moved us to his bedroom, the closer one. He laid me down on the bed, gently, and pushed some hair out of my face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

“Cheesy thing to say to a girl you’re currently fucking, Parker.” He gave me puppy dog eyes, so I continued. “Thank you. You’re pretty beautiful yourself.”

He still wasn’t moving his hips, which was making me restless, but he was blushing a little and leaned in to kiss me, which I definitely wasn’t mad about.

After a couple minutes of making out, though, I started to move my hips. To my chagrin, Peter stilled them.

“Dude!”

“I’m trying to kiss you,” he said.

“You’re literally inside of me and you just wanna kiss?”

He laughed a little, softly. “You’ve got nice lips.”

“Well, yeah, and you do, too, Peter, but I need to emphasize that _you’re inside of me_.”

“Oh, is that not…comfortable?”

“It’s making me a bit restless,” I told him, keeping my voice gentle and running a thumb over his cheek. “It doesn’t hurt or anything.”

He started to move his hips slowly, and I closed my eyes, moaning a little.

“Better?” he asked.

“Mhm,” I moaned.

“This is definitely easier on the bed,” Peter mumbled.

I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him in deeper. “Yeah, we were at such a risk of falling off the couch,” I deadpanned. “It’s not like one of us can stick to objects.”

He snapped his hips, thrusting hard and fast, and drove his dick straight into my g-spot. I cried out, arching my back.

“If that what I get when I sass you, I’m gonna keep doing it,” I moaned.

He pressed his lips to my neck. “If you want me to fuck you like that, just say so.”

“So.”

He glared at me for a second, and I grinned at him.

“What, you don’t appreciate my quick wit?”

“I don’t know how you have any wit right now. My brain is short circuiting.”

“Well,” I said, “maybe focus more on the fucking and less on the talking.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “I picked the most sassy, sarcastic woman on the face of the earth.”

“And you love me for it.” I raised an eyebrow at him.

He sighed. “And I love you for it.”

I grinned. “Aw, babe, I love you too.”

He got going again, I think just trying to shut me up, but I was definitely not complaining.

He found a rhythm that was good for both of us, but didn’t get us anywhere too quick. I didn’t exactly wanna rush through sex with him, I was very happy making it last.

Eventually, though, he started to get impatient. He started to speed up, angling his hips upwards so he’d hit my g-spot with every thrust. Moans got loud enough that I was sure even people in the next building over knew his name. I clawed his back, pulled at his hair, begged and pleaded him to go harder, faster.

“Peter,” I cried, “I’m so close. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He sped up, just a little, and I could see the caution on his face.

“You can go harder, Peter, I promise.”

He looked at me, and then thrusted harder and harder. My body started to seize up, and I cried out.

“Fuck, Peter, I’m-”

The orgasm took solid hold of me, and shook me until I was very much out of breath and could feel sore muscles starting to set in. He slowed down as I settled back down into the mattress, and then pulled out, just in time to finish on my stomach.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I couldn’t last any longer. I’ll go get a towel-”

“We were going at it for over an hour, Peter, I don’t think you needed to last any longer.”

He smiled at me before going to the bathroom and grabbing a cloth. He wiped the cum off of my stomach, and then lovingly kissed my now-clean skin.

I yawned. “I could go for another nap, now.”

“Me too,” Peter said. “You wore me out.”

I giggled a little as he laid down next to me, pulling disheveled blankets up around us. I rested my head on his chest, and traced patterns on his skin in front of my face.

“So,” I breathed, “should we move into a one bedroom?”

Peter chuckled. “That sounds wonderful, Em.”

He kissed my forehead, and started humming, and I quickly dozed off.


End file.
